Prelude to Death
by Flawless Massacre
Summary: One-shot, AU Kimimaro, different personality, Slightly Insane. Gore, Fodder Death.


**Prelude to death.**

Insanity.......when does one realize they have achieved this? You're pretty sure you've lost it, but the question is, how far have you fallen? Or better yet, when did you start falling?

Ever since you were little, locked away only to be taken out and used for the ideal situations.

What's so good about sanity anyway, everything is logical, limits, rules, guidelines. _Order_. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth. That's nothing new of course; you're fed only the best of the best!

You can almost taste the sarcasm, actually you can. You wonder if a sane person could taste sarcasm.

You're mind has raced off into a tangent you realise, as the sound of echoing footsteps bring you out of the debate on your dwindling sanity.

You take a whiff of the air, terrible idea, it smells horrendous, however the familiar smell of the nameless man you have met before, pushes itself through the stench.

A glimmer of hope slips in through the cracks of your currently disorientated demeanour. A trip to the outside perhaps?

A chance to escape? Do you even want to escape? Your current captors are probably the only family you have left.

You'll get out, you know it. They probably know it. It is just a matter of Patience.

To hell with patience, you've been stuck here for far too long. Only taken out when you and your specialized 'skill set' are required.

The man is speaking and you focus on his words, trying to wrap your fogged up mind around them.

"-attacking the village, your presence is required." He offers freely with a gruff tone. It takes a moment for his words to sink in. "Need my help again do you?" the words roll off your tongue in low murmur.

"You can stay here and rot, if that's what you would rather?" His eyes snap to yours.

"You wouldn't have bothered to come in the first place if I wasn't needed." You say in a rush, not entirely hiding your desperation. He stares at you a while longer before sighing. He then moves towards the cage, fishing a key ring from his pocket and placing it in the rusted lock.

Your eyes watch it greedily as the lock clicks, and the cage door opens with a groan._ Freedom_. You scamper out quickly, and stare up defiantly at the man in front of you.

"Let's go."

Blinding light awaits you as you trot out of the opening of the tunnel. Once you're eyes adjust you can see the carnage that awaits.

Bodies a strewn, blood pooling around them, dismembered limbs, men and woman charging each other, swords screeching through the air, and colliding with clangs.

A man spots your escort, and charges with his arms held high, a bloody sword glimmering messily within his grasp. Your escort rushes forward and they meet with a clang, the swords grind together, and they begin to swing the deadly weapons wildly at each other.

The escort manages to come out on top, but with a large loss of blood steadily climbing from the wound on his side. He grimaces in pain, and glances at you.

"Get to work already." He growls through clenched teeth. You nod, and make your way to the nearest confrontation.

You don't stop as an oddly shaped sword slides into your hand. You grasp it loosely, and launch a flank attack on some guy with a trench coat.

He hears you and swings his bloody weapon to his left in a wide arc. You're glad to know that your skills have not rusted too much. You step forward and crouch down, the sword passes over you and you step up and your white sword is no longer white.

You tear it out of his side and kick him in the chest, he lands with a squeal and tries to hold his insides, well, inside. You jog onward, and separate an unsuspecting woman from her feet and a man from his head.

The invading bandits seem to be noticing your presence now, and three of their comrades have been decimated. They focus in on you and those not currently in conflict charge you in earnest.

A wild scream erupts from behind and you turn in time to sidestep a heavy downward slash, you kick his sword out of his hand, and run his face through with your bone sword.

There's no time to admire your handiwork as you are forced to dodge several close attempts at your life. You spin just out of range of one, and leap over another.

You charge the closest one, a heavily built male; he reaches out to grab you and loses his fingers, and his lower jaw with the wide arc of your blade.

The woman decides to cut her losses and performs a strategic retreat; you end her hope of continued existence by launching several bone fragments from the end of your fingers. She writhes on the ground in pain from the projectile wounds in her back, and you swiftly send her to the afterlife.

You turn around and look out over the hundreds of corpses and the still fresh scuffles. Several men have seen what you have done and race to end your existence.

You wonder why none of the others have the sense to run like the female bandit, and run away? They must know by now that they can't win? Not with their meagre skills.

Maybe, you think, as you walk towards the charging bandits, you're the only sane one in this insane world.


End file.
